


41 RULES

by soresheep (orphan_account)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Firsts, Frottage, M/M, Sleepovers, link lowkey gets off on knowing they're being Bad Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23943760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/soresheep
Summary: Sleepovers aren't the same as when they were kids.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46
Collections: Good Mythical Self-Isolation





	41 RULES

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the gmself-iso prompt thingo.....i saw "childhood sleepovers" and lost my shit so here's my contribution!!!! its a bit all over the place, and it's already past the 2nd wednesday....but i hope u enjoy <3
> 
> ((they're both 18-19 and legal in this, don't sweat))

It had to be Link’s house. 

They’d played the ‘_we’re just mucking around’ _ card too many times in the McLaughlin household and now both boys feared it no longer worked on Rhett’s dad—who was a strict son-of-a-bitch. It was one thing for the older man to open the door on two teenage boys throwing a tennis ball at the other’s crotch, but it was a whole other thing for him to find said door locked (locked doors _ weren’t _a thing people did at Buies Creek) while they blasted music—he disliked having no clue what was going on inside. 

They’d blame it on growing up, on wanting a portion of their life unsupervised by parents, on having teenage freedom but really, Rhett and Link _ needed _ the ambiguity. 

So, instead of taking a left out of the graveyard, as they usually would, they now take a right and sail down the road towards the Neal’s. Converse slipping on the pedals with buzzing excitement, anticipation, and ever-present embarrassment; Link led Rhett into his front yawn where both of them violently dropped their bikes on freshly cut grass.

The clang of shaken metal was the last thing Link heard clearly before they made it up to his room and Rhett shut the door behind him. The greeting from his Ma sounded muffled as if she was calling from way out in the distance. Link knew it was from the nerves, could feel the butterflies in his belly, and stayed silent as Rhett replied for him. 

It was nothing special, just the usual, “I’m good, Mrs. Neal. How are you doin’?” 

Link didn’t recognise a reply if it ever came. His thumping footsteps up the stairs were muted from his mind, he couldn’t even make out Rhett’s behind him—who had a habit of dragging his feet on the ground—and it was then that Link reminded himself the true nature of what they’d escaped to go do. 

A sudden loud noise. Rhett's shut the door. 

Clear-headed, Link turns around to face Rhett, but only once the backs of his knees are pressing against his bed. With the door closed and, Link watched as Rhett reached back with eyes still trained on him, locked, too, he makes his way across the room to Link’s tape deck. 

Link knows what's going to play before the machine stirs and opens his mouth to tell Rhett to _stop _and _take the tape out. _ His voice doesn’t come out fast enough because suddenly Merle is filling the room, and Rhett’s dialling the volume up, and Link doesn’t know if _he _feels it too, but the music choice is too personal. Reminds him too much of their childhood bonding, growing up together, of being fourteen and still pretending girls were his main source of anxiety and not the fact that his eyes lingered on Rhett too long when he undressed by the river.

Rhett locks eyes with Link, and he thinks that he notices it then, the bristling caution that Link surrounds himself in because he smiles slightly and turns it louder. Link gets chills and finds himself wanting to call him out, punch his arm and snip a quick_ jerk _before dropping the facade and smiling along—that’s how they’d act in any _normal _situation. Link can’t do it here, can’t because his palms have become sweatier, pants tighter and he’s having trouble swallowing. They’re playing a game. 

The _game. _They’d made up this new game. 

The rules were as following: don’t be too loud, don’t go thumping on the floor, no skin-on-skin contact (Link had ensured this one, a year younger and terribly inexperienced),—and most importantly—no telling parents. 

That was a no-brainer. They both knew what they were doing, that they were _sinning _and that if either one of their parents got a hold of it, or God forbid, their church, it’d all be over. Not just the “games” or the late-night phone calls that happen on Link’s atrociously old Garfield landline, when all Rhett wants to talk about is the latest basketball match on telly — but their friendship would be over, too. 

Destroyed, even. No more seeing each other. No more mentioning one another’s names in the house. No more going to the same school. Link fears Rhett may even be moved away again, off to some other part of North Carolina, or back to Georgia. Link couldn’t think of anything worse. 

And so they try to keep it on the down-low, and only when there’s music loud enough that it drowns out the noises they subconsciously making (so, maybe not that _down-low_)_. _

The bass is loud enough to shake the floor. Link can feel the vibrations in his fingertips when he reaches for his bedpost, clings onto it with dear life because Rhett is advancing on him; taking small steps until his shoes bracket the outside of Link’s. Then he leans down, far—because they’re not kids anymore, Rhett soars over Link—and captures his mouth in a tender kiss. 

He makes a sudden noise, quiet and breathy, but it’s stolen away from him in a gush of music. The feeling of Rhett’s lips against his own rings forbidden, like something that shouldn’t ever happen, and Link drinks it in. Thrives on knowing they’re rebelling against their families, acting in ways that are beyond unacceptable, that there’s a risk of punishment when they come together like this.

With tongues dancing, hips pressing forward, Link sighing into the stiff air when Rhett kisses across his jaw, down his neck, sucking where the slope of his shoulder begins and then—Rhett allowing himself small, short grunts whenever Link twists his waist _just so _when he miraculously hooks his fingers into his belt loops and pulls him closer, inviting him in. 

Link thinks of his Ma and feels the guilty rush that comes with picturing her downstairs, nursing her sweet tea while glancing up at the ceiling, wondering what the boys would be getting out of listening to Merle this loud, having no clue that her son’s childhood best friend has him pinned against his bedroom wall.

That Rhett has a hand on the nape of his neck, that his fingers are running through the fine hairs there, that Link is writhing hopelessly against his toned body; harder than his, shaped from basketball practise. And that Link is leaking from it all, overexcited and overwhelmingly aroused, not knowing what to do with his own hands, letting them run over Rhett’s shoulders to grip and pull at the material of his shirt because_ fuck. _

“Oh, gosh.”

It’s a miracle Rhett hears it—grinning when they reconnect and causing Link to kiss his teeth.

And later, when Link’s laying in bed and staring wide-eyed at the dark ceiling, he’ll slowly let himself realise that Rhett is the one who showed him things no one else could have, that he was the bulk of Link’s firsts and that he will always be the one to have done that. And that Link will go his whole life knowing that Rhett is _his person. _

Link wasn’t sure how he let himself, or Rhett, allow such a stupid idea to escalate this far—to the point where they’d slink away after school to muck around with each other’s hands down their pants. He partially blames Rhett’s older brother, was convinced that it was Cole who riled them both up. He told Rhett all about getting with people, with girls, what it felt like, what it tasted like to have someone else's saliva on your tongue—and Rhett fell for it, would meet Link at the rocks on weekend and retell all the fibs to more gullible ears. 

Rhett would make Link sit on the smaller rock, force him to ask questions about the topic because suddenly Rhett thought he knew everything. At least in theory. Being a year older than him, Link still looked at Rhett with a sparkle in his eyes, glazed over with a hint of awe and so he would do just as he commanded, and Rhett would reward him with exclusive sexual stories. 

Link would grip the hard material under his palms, feel his nails bend at the unforgiving surface, and nod along nervously as Rhett delved into full detail about Cole’s victories. 

Then Rhett had done the irreversible, he’d suggested that they made up a game out of it. Convinced Link that it would benefit them. He was so obsessed with the idea of _knowing _what others were talking about, wanted to be like his older brother, wanted to fit in, and be recognised as experienced. Rhett wanted to speed up time.

And Link wanted it to slow; he wanted to spend as much time sitting innocently on the rocks as possible, talking about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time with someone he cared deeply for. Although the game felt like a bad idea, Link didn’t stop to think about the possible consequences before Rhett went ahead and grabbed his leg.

_ “Then you’d slide your hand up.” _

Link would physically shake and try his very best to calm the hammering of his own heart while he looked down at Rhett’s large hand, sprawled powerfully on his tanned thigh. 

_ “Up? You mean…up there?” _

_ “Yes, idiot. Stop pretending like you’ve not seen this happen in movies.” _

_ “Ma fast forwards the sex scenes.” _

Then Rhett would scoff and roll his eyes. He’d scoot across the rock so he was closer to Link, he’d follow his own guide, drag his hand up and cup Link in his palm and Link would squeak; flushed and already sweating. He never said no, never even once considered rejecting Rhett, and he’d tilt his head this way and that, would allow his best friend better access to his mouth.

Link would relish in the feeling of Rhett digging his fingers further down, as if he was practising on a girl, thinking they’d enter _there_, but instead, his digits would press against his taint and then Link would really be making noises, rocking up into his touch no matter how awkwardly positioned, twisted around each other on the big rock, leaning their weight on one arm. 

Now, Link’s not embarrassed and Rhett’s no longer snickering at his virginal remarks. Now, they shush each other to stay quiet and eye one another to make sure they’ve locked the door behind them. Now, they sit in class_ buzzing, _almost grinding against the chair because the mere thought of getting off on the other is enough to give them blue balls. 

There’s no shedding of layers, no shirts were thrown across the room, instead, they rut up into each other and hold on tightly as they reach their climax. They’re young and horny enough to get off in their own pants, and they do. With Link halfway off the ground, arms wrapped securely around Rhett’s shoulders, fingers clawing at his shoulder blades as Rhett holds him up with hands on his ass, pushing his hips forwards to meet Link’s.

Link muffles his strangled cry into Rhett’s neck, opening his mouth against the hot skin there and letting out a near sob. Rhett uses Link’s shaking thigh to finish himself off, slipping it between his own and riding it shamelessly. 

They don’t go down for dinner despite his mother’s calls. Link does, however, let Tucker into the room and wonders with a tinge of self-disgust if the hound can smell what they did in here. They take turns showering, Rhett has to borrow a pair of Link’s briefs and turns his friend red-faced with a single comment on their tightness before they settle down to watch some SNL before they doze off. 

Link’s on his own bed, head propped up on a pillow. From his advantage point he can see Rhett laying on the floor to his left without him being able to tell that Link’s looking. Most of the skit passes by without Link paying any attention, his eyes are on Rhett’s sharp profile—admiring the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw, his dark fluttering eyelashes, and the way his nose scrunches up adorably when he laughs or yawns. 

Rhett turns his head suddenly, locking eyes with Link—his heart stutters and his airways constrict dangerously. Neither of them look away, and slowly, Link reaches down between them and opens his palm for Rhett to bravely take into his own. 

They fall asleep like that, hand in hand, and it doesn’t matter to Link that he wakes up in the early hours of the morning with his elbow feeling broken, or that Rhett has almost let go, fingers wrapped limply around his knuckles, or even that Link has to break the clasp to roll over.

Because when he comes to in the morning, when the sun has come up and displays broken shards of light on Link’s bedroom floor, and finds that Rhett has disappeared from his makeshift bed but can hear his warm voice in the kitchen downstairs, Link feels an overwhelming surge of happiness, relief and hope.

He knows everything’s going to turn out all right. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first rhink fic ;; ive wanted to write for them for a Long Time but didn't have the nerve so...please be gentle w me
> 
> and big thank u to the mods over at @ mythicalsecretsanta on tumblr for giving me inspiration !!!!
> 
> hope everyone is staying safe


End file.
